


smelted

by kurgaya



Series: firestain [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Family Feels, Family History, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Original Character(s), Sakumo Lives, Tetsu no Kuni | Land of Iron, the hatake clan said get in loser we're going to recover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurgaya/pseuds/kurgaya
Summary: Hisa deemed their coming a victory; three wolves, she had said, for three mountains.Sakumo doesn’t feel victorious. He can hardly keep track of the days, let alone his victories.[Sakumo Leaves AU. The first few days pass in a blur. Hisa invites him to tea].
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Hatake Sakumo, Hatake Sakumo & Original Hatake Character(s)
Series: firestain [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951453
Comments: 15
Kudos: 75





	smelted

**Author's Note:**

> Who needs plot when I can just info-dump and make Sakumo sad??
> 
> (The plot is recovery. And it's slow, sloooow going).

“If you need anything,” Samurai Sajin says, muffled through his neck-guard and the snow in Sakumo’s ears. He rests his hand on the end of his katana and dips into a bow. His shield glints in the slightly yellow light of the room.

It’s evening, and the snow outside is still and grey. Nights on the mountainside are dark in a different way to Konoha; dark and open, as though Sakumo could fall right through. The stars are closer here. They glimmer like Sajin’s shield. Sakumo feels them watching him like eyes of the mountain, like the guards and servants, and amber-eyed animals hunting in the dark.

Sakumo doesn't need anything so he says nothing. Servants and samurai have been in and out of the room all day, and his mind is dizzy with the abundance of new faces and names. They blur in his memories with people he used to know. He's unused to such a lively house. The servants are curious and the samurai are kind; and he's unused to that, too. There are too many people. There's too much he doesn't know.

Sajin closes the door behind him, guarding the way into the house. Sakumo turns into the empty room. Gone are Makaze and her sewing, and Naruhito with his medical kit. Sakumo is alone now, but for Kakashi and the guards in the hall. The staff ensured that the room is fitted with everything they might need, including a small mountain of blankets. _You'll get used to the cold_ , Yokaze had said. He didn't say how long it takes. Sakumo doesn't know if they'll be here long enough to find out.

He draws one of the blankets around his shoulders. He comes in from the balcony and shuts out the snow. He and Kakashi have to remain here for the duration of the house arrest; until General Mifune decides what to do with them. Hisa may be the only reason Sakumo wasn't thrown in jail. He's not sure it was kindness that compelled her to defend him, but it was kind of her all the same. The Land of Iron may be neutral land, but they have the right to treat Sakumo with suspicion. Konoha wouldn't have cared if Mifune had cut him down. It would have cared, not so long ago. The Konoha that drove him here seems so different from the Konoha he knew. He struggles to make sense of it; and he fears they were the same all along.

His family fought and died for Konoha. Now, Sakumo can't even visit their graves. Hisa won’t wait long to hear about them - to hear about everything. He dreads it. Her stubbornness is unusual for a Hatake, or at least, the ones Sakumo knew. Tomoko was more adamant than most, particularly when it came to her research. But that was entirely of her mother’s making and not her Hatake genes. Aunt Hana was strict and proud. She probably would have liked Hisa greatly, and Sakumo is almost glad they never met. Hana used to peer over her little glasses like a disapproving teacher, but she would have scoffed at the idea of working with children. Her austerity was better-suited for Intelligence. She could interrogate amber from a tree.

Kakashi used to cry whenever she held him. Sakumo nearly smiles at the memory. Kakashi was such a quiet baby; he rarely fussed. He was even-tempered with everybody and an angel for his mother, but one bleary look at Hana would reduce him to tears. She had two children of her own, but Sakumo would guess that her husband handled the child care.

Hisa must have at least one child, too, but Sakumo hasn’t met them yet. From what he can gather, there is still half the family to meet. Hopefully, they’ll ease him in gently. There are already too many people to please.

The bedroom is dark and simple, lit by a single lamp. Two futons lay side-by-side in the centre. The sheets of one are bundled up and breathing quietly, and Kakashi’s hair peeps out the top. Their clothes and gear span the wall in a neat line. Sakumo changes into sleepwear and settles down onto the other futon, but he won’t sleep yet. First, he checks his pack for everything he brought from Konoha - which is little. He inventoried all of the scrolls but a few hours ago, at the behest of the guards, but he can’t shake the compulsion to check again. Samurai Rentaro confiscated his weapons scroll and supply of tags. Sakumo had been loath to part with his tantō. Its absence troubles him more than the chakra-suppression seal. It was a graduation gift from his parents. His father died the same year, and his mother the year after. Sakumo doesn’t feel like himself without it.

He doesn’t have much else in the way of possessions. He left most of his inheritance in the house, including everything his aunts, uncles, and cousins left upon their deaths. Some of it has great value. All of it was painful to look upon. However, there were some things he couldn’t bear to leave behind: Mahiro’s books; his father’s mahjong tiles; and his mother’s bow. One scroll contains Kakashi’s Academy books, clothes, photographs, and the only surviving stuffed animal from his infancy. Kakashi tore, lost, or fed the rest to the wolves. Sakumo doesn’t know what made Bird so special, but he doesn’t question the whims of his son. Kakashi hasn’t played with it for a while, but Sakumo wasn’t going to chance leaving it behind.

“Dad?” Kakashi’s face appears from under the futon. "Can you summon Shihono?"

Sakumo sets the scrolls aside. It’s been a while since he slept in the same room as Kakashi, too, unless he counts the cold nights huddled together on their way to Tenzaburō. Rather than futons, they had used the largest and wisest of Sakumo’s wolves as a bedspread: Shihono, the pack leader. She had only laughed about it. She also won’t fit in this room; and even if she could, Sakumo’s chakra is sealed.

He brushes Kakashi’s hair back. “Are you cold? Let me fetch you another blanket.”

Kakashi frowns. That’s a yes. He continues to frown as Sakumo tucks a blanket around him, but at least he looks a little warmer. Sakumo checks his temperature, just in case. He should check his own temperature, too, but he’s less concerned about himself. Kakashi’s a brave boy, but he is only small. Sakumo’s the one who dragged him out in the snow.

“Sleep,” Sakumo says. “I’ll get the light.”

It’s much warmer under the futon. Sakumo wishes he could summon Shihono as well, but they’ll have to make do. He’s glad they reached the city and have a warm place to sleep, but this estate is large and full of unknowns. Tenzaburō is even larger. There are many people here that could hurt them. Sakumo feels powerless without his chakra and weapons, and he hopes Kakashi doesn’t notice. He has to be strong for his son but he doesn’t know how to feel anything but tired and afraid.

He rests a hand over the Kakashi-sized bump in the futon. It rises and falls with each small breath. Sakumo hasn’t slept like this since Kakashi was a baby. Mahiro used to sleep on the other side of the bed. Kakashi and whichever wolf was feeling needy would wiggle into the middle of the bed, and Sakumo would listen to Kakashi breathe, and play with his wife’s hair. He closes his eyes and imagines her beside him. He falls asleep wishing she was there.

White-haired and armoured people come and go. Samurai Sajin and Samurai Rentaro are statues in every corner, rarely speaking and rarely spoken to. Kakashi glowers whenever he passes them, which is often in a space so small. But he gazes at them curiously when he assumes they aren’t looking, and Sakumo has seen Sajin’s eyes crinkle in a smile more than once. By the third day, Sajin is half a face of familiarity behind his mask. Sakumo can’t say the same about the other visitors. The servants are Nara shadows and the Hatakes are blurs of snow. They are kind to him, and warm, but Sakumo watches them busy around him with the same helplessness as sitting in a snowstorm.

Makaze appears after a few days. It’s sooner than Sakumo expects. She had not reacted well to Kakashi’s status as a shinobi, but Sakumo is neither offended nor angry about it. Konoha has its way and so does Tenzaburō. He has never questioned Konoha’s laws until that fateful time he did, and he doesn’t have the energy to try again. He finds he has little energy, these days. But he recognises the quirk of Makaze’s laugh through the never-changing days of house arrest. He is glad to see her - although he hardly knows her - and Makaze gives him a funny look when he mentions it.

“I _was_ here yesterday."

He doesn’t remember that. Yesterday, someone had knit a tiny sweater for Bird that Kakashi will never admit that he loves, but Sakumo can’t recall when it appeared, or who had gifted it. Kakashi has taken to hiding Bird under the futon, anyway, and Sakumo has taken to hiding on the balcony from the circus of strangers in their room. The balcony overlooks the snow-buried lawn and the outhouses in the estate. Dark, beautiful trees obscure his view of Mifune’s castle, but he knows it looms above them as the mountain looms over all of Tenzaburō. He feels insignificant in its shadow. The Hokage Rock had stood proud and tall over Konoha in much the same way, but Sakumo had never felt like _nothing_ beneath it, not until that’s all Konoha deemed him to be.

Hisa deemed their coming a victory; _three wolves_ , she had said, _for three mountains_.

Sakumo doesn’t feel victorious. He can hardly keep track of the days, let alone his victories. His hair is long and matted across his face, and his life is matted too, and he feels embarrassed in the wake of Makaze’s stare.

“Ah. There are… too many faces.”

Makaze’s expression doesn’t ease. She looks absolutely nothing like his wife and yet Mahiro is all he can think about at that moment. “ _Sakumo_ , I swear.” The sigh is the worst sound he’s ever heard. “Have you spoken to my grandmother yet? I think you should.”

“Lady Hisa?”

“You can call her Gran-Gran.”

Blood drains from Sakumo’s face - and so does the embarrassed red of his cheeks. “I’d rather not.”

Makaze cracks a smile, revealing sharp teeth in her mouth. Sakumo can’t remember looking at “Gran-Gran’s” face at all, but he’s almost sure her teeth are just as sharp.

A servant lays out the tea set, but Hisa ushers him away with a wave of her walking stick before he can serve. Sakumo pours the tea instead. His family was fond of late-night tea to ease the discussion of clan matters. His father was Yoshino’s and Sakurako’s eldest child, and was to assume the role of clan head upon their deaths. But the plans of a shinobi family are never so neat. Sakumo’s parents died when he was young - not as young as Kakashi, and not as young as his sister - and he attended these “meetings” in their place. Aunt Yuuma had a beautiful set of tea bowls. She taught him how to prepare, serve, and clean them in even the most formal of occasions. The clan chin-wagging was never so formal. At first, he attended only to listen, pour tea, and grow bored. At nine years old, he was a chūnin, but still a child. His aunts and uncles debated politics, war, and the fate of their clan, but those conversations flew over his head.

Eventually, he poured tea with the knowledge that the clan would one day be his responsibility. But that day never came. Aunt Hana clung to that responsibility as stubbornly as she clung to life, until all that remained of her family were Sakumo and Kakashi - and then _just_ Sakumo and Kakashi.

Two people hardly constitute a ‘clan’.

All Sakumo can use from those meetings is the art of serving tea. He pours it now for “Gran-Gran” and knows he will never use that name. His hands are steady but his heart shakes.

Kakashi’s nose wrinkles at the smell. He’s still a bit young to drink tea or coffee, and he probably wouldn’t like the taste. Sakumo doesn’t particularly like green tea either, and he’s thirty. Perhaps it’s a taste only acquired at Hisa’s age.

“Naruhito has deemed you well again?” Hisa asks.

It’s both a question and a trap, and Sakumo doesn’t answer. He steels himself and sips the tea. It’s hot and herby and makes him shudder, and so does the reckoning in Hisa’s gaze.

“The Iida family are renowned medics in this land,” she says. “Naruhito is young and newly-wed to my granddaughter, but he is accomplished in his craft. His skills are beneficial to our family. I am certain he will be able to heal you of any ills you may face here in Tenzaburō. This is a harsh land. You must have a will to survive.”

Sakumo nods. His mouth tastes like tea and fear. Something in Hisa’s gaze warns him that anything else is a terrible answer.

“Has anyone spoken to you of the noble families here?”

Sakumo unlocks his tongue from behind his teeth. “No.”

“There are three, the General’s family notwithstanding: our own; the Iida family; and the Yamada family. We serve as councillors to the General, and as samurai, are his most elite. The Yamada are skilled swordsmen, but dedicate themselves to sharing their knowledge. You do not carry a katana. You are untrained?”

“I - _we_ are trained in shinobi weaponry.”

“Dad has a tantō,” Kakashi adds. Hisa had insisted he attend, and Sakumo doesn’t want Kakashi far from his sight. He was hoping a book would distract Kakashi from the conversation, but apparently not. “But the guards took it away.”

“A tantō is not a katana,” Hisa says. It’s impossible to say whether she disapproves of the interjection. “But it is a start. Your blade will be returned to you at the General’s discretion. The rest will be melted.”

“Melt -!?"

“Of course,” Sakumo says, and Kakashi’s jaw clicks shut. “Also - there was a bow.”

“And quiver? You are trained in that, instead?”

He sips the tea to hide a wince. “No. It’s purely sentimental.” He elaborates because Hisa will expect it of him: “It belonged to my mother.”

“I see. So your father is the Hatake by blood. Tell me about them. When did they meet their end?”

This isn’t a conversation Sakumo is prepared to have in front of Kakashi. Or at all. But he has little choice. Helplessly, he looks over to Kakashi and finds his nose stuck deep in the book. So deep, in fact, that he is entirely unblinking, and will be listening to every word. Sakumo nearly smiles. A shinobi of Konoha will need a better poker face than that, but he supposes they are not shinobi of Konoha anymore. The samurai of Tenzaburō are demon-faced and hide their expressions well. Kakashi’s already an eavesdropping, little demon, and Sakumo loves him so much that he never wanted to inflict this pain.

“My parents -” _Your grandparents_ , he thinks, brushing a frenzied tuft of Kakashi’s hair. “I lost them when I was a child. Eight or nine. Our relationship with other nations had started to break down. The years before the war were… turbulous. My parents were killed on active duty. My father was called Tomohiro - Hatake Tomohiro. My mother was Nara.”

Kakashi’s pretence vanishes. “Nara?”

“Not the clan,” Sakumo clarifies, although sometimes he wishes it were true. The Nara clan are large and powerful. If he had been born into it, if _Kakashi_ had been born into it, then would it have saved them from Sakumo’s mistake? “Fujiwara Nara. Her family were civilians. Traders. There is a clan in Konoha - the Nara clan,” he adds for Hisa’s sake. “She bore no relation.”

Kakashi's forehead creases. Sakumo appreciates this must be a lot for him; he rarely speaks of their family, and Kakashi never asks. Many of the family members that Sakumo can't bear to speak of did, in fact, know Kakashi as a babe. It's cruel that Kakashi can't remember them in turn, too young for memory beyond the wisps of his mother's hair.

"What were they like?"

"Well," Sakumo begins, eyes flicking to Hisa. She says nothing; doesn't stop him. "My father was…"

He struggles for the right words. Tomohiro was stern and watchful, and at times, unbending. He was by no means cruel or rude: in fact, he spoke little, like many of the Hatake clan. The women of his family were wise and lovely, and the children wild. Tomohiro, like his brother, father, and son, was chronically cautious, and yet for what he believed in, he would face with unwavering strength.

But Kakashi is five, and Sakumo cannot tell him these things. Instead, he recounts Tomohiro’s passion for games: mahjong, go, and shogi. He talks of Nara’s paintings, her meticulous collection of oils and pastels, and how everything in their home had its place. Sakumo does not mention his sister, who was wild and loud and so at odds with their tidy, little family. She was delightful and menacing, like a spinning top crashing into a tower of cards. She would have been a _terrible_ influence on Kakashi and Sakumo wishes she had lived to meet him.

There are so many things to say but Sakumo can’t say any of them. There are so many people who live only in his memories. There are days where he cannot bear the pain of keeping them alive. There are _years_.

“It sounds as though my brother had a fine family,” Hisa says. She has long-since finished her tea.

Sakumo nods. He’s hardly scratched the surface of his family - of his uncles and aunts, his cousins, his _wife_ \- but Hisa is right. His family were wonderful, infuriating, and brave, and the war was long and terrible to them, and Sakumo was terrible too. Hisa has no way of knowing that she’s looking at the Konoha clan head and he’s _glad_. He never wanted that responsibility, and he never earned it. Aunt Hana was right to keep it from him.

Sorrow pricks at his eyes - but he doesn’t cry. He feels his body aching to, _burning_ to, like that hot-cold from days out in the snow. But when he blinks, he sees Kakashi watching him, and that’s enough to stay his tears. Sakumo cannot yet be cheerful - not like Mahiro, and the way she lit up his life. But he can be steady like his parents; he must be brave and prepared.

Sakumo pours more tea. Hisa doesn’t ask him to, but he’s loath to waste it. He lets Kakashi try it this time, wary, and Kakashi’s face twists in ultimate betrayal. Hisa’s laughter is dog-sharp and short, and Sakumo would be through the roof if he had access to his chakra. Luckily for them all, he doesn’t, and the seals pulse absently as he sets the tea aside.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, all comments appreciated :)
> 
> In-fic Hatake OCs:  
> \- **Hisa / Samurai Yoshihime / Gran-Gran** : the matriarch, Yoshino's sister, and Sakumo's great-aunt  
> \- **Makaze** : a young woman with curly hair, Samurai Kyōsuke's wife
> 
> Mentioned Hatake OCs:  
> \- **Naruhito / Samurai Shizen** : a medic  
> \- **Yokaze / Samurai Kyōsuke** : a blond ranger and mentor, Makaze's husband  
> \- **Yoshino** : Sakumo's grandfather, who left the Land of Iron and travelled to the Land of Fire (deceased)  
> \- **Sakurako** : Sakumo's grandmother, wife of Yoshino (deceased)  
> \- **Tomohiro & Nara**: Sakumo's parents (deceased)  
> \- **Mahiro** : Sakumo's wife (deceased)  
> \- **Hana** : Sakumo's aunt (deceased)  
> \- **Tomoko** : Sakumo's cousin (deceased)
> 
> Other Major OCs:  
> \- **Samurai Sajin & Samurai Rentaro**: guards assigned to Sakumo and Kakashi during their house arrest


End file.
